


I Haven't Dreamed Of You And I

by AbbyBanks



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Miscommunication, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-25 23:58:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbbyBanks/pseuds/AbbyBanks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>MJN has finally gone the way of all good things. Now it's time for Martin and Douglas to say a final farewell to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Haven't Dreamed Of You And I

"Gertie, may she rest in pieces," said Douglas as they all drained their glasses, and that was the end of the MJN farewell party. Carolyn had become gently sozzled over the course of the evening and she leaned heavily on Herc's shoulder as they left the pub. Herc poured her into the back seat of Arthur's car, where a weepy and incoherent Arthur was already napping, and they pulled away, leaving Martin and Douglas in the car park.

"Well," said Douglas, once their tail lights were no longer visible. "So long, Captain, sir. It's been an honour."

"Don't call me..." began Martin. "Yes, yes. It was. For me too, I mean. But you should just call me 'Martin' now, you know, I'm not your captain any more."

"Ah, Martin. A slave to convention to the end." He was going to miss this. "How dull would life be if I spent it doing only what I should? Come here."

Martin stepped awkwardly into Douglas's bear hug. He was all elbows and sharp corners and smelled of Vosene and cheap aftershave. He was also as utterly adorable as the day they'd met. Douglas was going to do something unforgivable if he wasn't careful and Martin had made his opinion on that subject abundantly clear long ago. He dropped a frivolous kiss on the crown of Martin's head and let him go.

"This is it, then," he said. He stepped away, patting his pockets for his car key, and Martin trotted after him.

"Is it?" he asked. "Because I rather thought that, um, we might..." Martin looked away with the expression he wore when he was about to insist on obeying some minor regulation which would cost someone a fortune. "That is. It's only early and I thought we could. Um. Get a coffee. Back at mine, perhaps."

It was impossible to tell in the sodium lighting of the car park, but Martin had surely gone bright red. His gaze darted about the car park, looking at everything but Douglas.

"Martin, are you telling me that after all this time - after all these years - _now_ you're choosing to make a pass at me?"

Martin bit his lower lip. He nodded.

"But, but," stuttered Douglas. He never stuttered. He tried again. "But Martin, you're not interested in me. You turned me down. Outright. Repeatedly!" Martin couldn't have been more vehement in his refusals if he had tried. "You told me quite clearly that you weren't that kind of person!"

"Of course I told you that! I wasn't!" said Martin defensively. He stepped away and Douglas followed him, crowding into his space, backing him up against the Lexus. "But I'm not any more, that is, I am now."

"'Of course'? What the hell are you talking about? 'Don't be ridiculous,' you said. You _laughed_ at me! Why 'of course'? Why now?"

"It would have been inappropriate! I was your superior officer, Douglas!"

"My _what?_ Martin, you've been many things to me, you tormentor, but you have never been my superior. And if you've been holding out on me all this time out of some misguided sense of propriety then I'll, I'll..."

Martin lifted a hand to Douglas's cheek, his fingertips trembling.

"You'll make me pay for it somehow, I expect," he said.

Douglas stared at him, somewhere between baffled and livid. "Yes," he said, the sound getting lost somewhere in his throat.

~§~

In the end he bullied Martin into leaving his van in the car park and drove them both back to his own place. Martin had tried to put a hand on Douglas's knee, but after Douglas glared at him and nearly drove them into a traffic island he'd kept his hands to himself as they crossed Fitton.

"Right. Coffee," growled Douglas when they arrived at his flat. Martin nodded and perched on the edge of a chair as Douglas slammed mugs onto the table and filled the kettle, his hands clumsy. He looked in three cupboards before he remembered where he kept the coffee, then slopped the milk all over the counter.

This was ridiculous. He left the kettle to go cold and sat at the table heavily, his head in his hands.

"So, Martin. You'll be pleased to hear that I have not got the least idea what is going on here," he said, scowling. "I've flirted with you; I've asked you out. I tried to give you gifts." That had ranked amongst his worst ideas ever and had led to an excruciatingly uncomfortable trip to Las Vegas and back. Martin had accused Douglas of trying to buy his 'services', followed by endless hours of stormy silence.

"Fraternisation between colleagues, especially colleagues who spend so much time..."

"Fraternisation!"

"Besides, it's not as though you needed me to get off with - you could have a girl in every airport if you wanted."

"Get off with..." Douglas gaped at Martin. "Is that what you thought it was all about? 'Getting off'?"

"What else would..."

"Martin, I may not be quite the Adonis of my youth, but believe me when I tell you I have never put a tenth as much effort into 'getting off' with anyone," he spat the words, "as I put into trying to talk you into a single measly date. I managed to swing tickets to the Lockheed McDonnell development centre. I introduced you to my mother, for God's sake!"

"You..."

"And you turned me down because you didn't want to fraternise with me!" A cold feeling crept into the pit of his stomach. "Is that why you're here now? Is this your idea of a parting gift? A wooden spoon for all my bad behaviour?"

"No!"

"Are we just here so you can 'get off'?"

"No! No, that's not..."

"Because, Martin, 'getting off' with you is the last thing on my mind right now." He marched across the flat and yanked the front door open so hard that it bounced off the wall and slammed shut again. "You need to leave."

Martin, contrary as always, slid back into his chair. His eyes were wide and he looked at Douglas as though seeing him for the first time.

"No," he said. "Oh, Douglas. I didn't realise."

"No? Why the hell not? What possible reason could I have for letting you stay?" Douglas stormed back into the kitchen and loomed over Martin.

"I..."

"Well?"

Martin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again and looked at Douglas he had gained all the self possession that Douglas had lost.

"Douglas, I'm so sorry," he said. "I never thought that you... I didn't know. I thought I was just convenient."

"Convenient!" Douglas dropped into the chair next to Martin. "Martin, you are the least convenient person I have ever had the misfortune to encounter."

"I know, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. But I thought that, I didn't think that..." Martin reached for Douglas's hand again. Martin's hands were warm and clammy, his palms callused from years of hauling furniture. He stroked Douglas's thumb with his own and Douglas let him.

Martin cleared his throat and addressed their intertwined fingers. "I didn't realise that you. That is, I knew we were friends, kind of and I knew you were, er, interested in me, but I thought that it was just about, um. Fraternising. I didn't know you had feelings. Emotional feelings. For me."

"I never..." Martin squeezed his hand and Douglas shut up. Martin still wouldn't look at him.

"Which is, um. Because I also have, that is, I had, feelings. For you."

"Martin," said Douglas.

"So I didn't want to be a notch on the bedpost and to watch you go on to the next person. To watch all your flight attendants in all those hotel bars and know that I'd had my turn and that was it. Not when I had all those. Feelings."

"Oh."

"And I thought, well, after today we won't work together any more and I'll probably never see you again and at least I'd be one of your notches. And I thought that was." Martin closed his eyes. "I thought that if I couldn't get what I wanted, I might as well have what I could get."

"Martin, you idiotic boy."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"I should bloody well think so. Though in fairness, I feel like I should apologise too."

"No, Douglas, you didn't..."

"Sometimes you're so nearly competent that I forget that you always put the most pessimistic, convoluted spin on anything. I should have explained myself better. But I am of an upbringing, Martin, which put very little stock in talking about one's feelings. In fact this is about as bloody uncomfortable as it gets."

"I'm sorry."

"So I want you to understand the significance of it when I say: yes, I have feelings for you. Feelings that going beyond being 'kind of friends', and certainly beyond 'fraternising'. You, as I understand it, have had feelings for me. May I take it from your somewhat incoherent speech that you still have those feelings, however cheaply you may rate them?"

Martin nodded wordlessly.

"Well, well, well." Douglas was exhausted. "Well, good. So what are we going to do about these mutually inconvenient and troublesome feelings?"

"This," whispered Martin. He leaned forward and pecked a chaste little kiss on the corner of Douglas's mouth, then rested his forehead against Douglas's shoulder. "Ask me out again."

"What?"

"Please, Douglas, ask me again."

"Martin Crieff, I would deem it a signal honour if you would allow me, Douglas Richardson, to take you out for dinner this weekend, however ill-advised..."

"Yes," said Martin. "Yes, please."

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Elbow's [Starlings](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SoEa7lApIKY).
> 
> "[...] acting like I haven't dreamed of you and I and  
> marriage in an orange grove.  
> You are the only thing in any room you're ever in  
> I'm stubborn, selfish and too old."
> 
> "Darling, is this love?"


End file.
